


get it all wrong

by MisterMan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:22:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12102672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterMan/pseuds/MisterMan
Summary: Prompto learns to trust.





	get it all wrong

**Author's Note:**

> based on [this](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4113.html?thread=6814225#cmt6814225) and [this](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4113.html?thread=6593553#cmt6593553). Not quite what they wanted, I'm sorry.
> 
> I listened to a lot of Sufjan Stevens as I wrote this.
> 
> Also constructive criticism is very welcome!! I want to improve on my writing so don't hesitate to say something if you think I should work on something. :D I'm aware this isn't as good as many fics out there but I hope you enjoy!

It's been nearly a decade since Prompto Argentum was rescued from the cold labs of Niflheim. 

He's a lot different than when he first arrived; less slavish and more chatty. He remembers first coming to the Citadel and not having the words to speak properly. All he had was orders and "Yes, sir," and nothing else, not even a name.

Now he's nearing his thirties and he's as normal and happy as an ex-MT unit who was brainwashed for the entirety of his childhood is going to be.

He wakes one morning, curled on his side and buried under the heavy blankets, and it feels like every morning does nowadays: it's warm and he can feel the air around him and knows that he'd rather be here than anywhere else right now.

Before, he might have been reluctant to stay in bed for longer than a minute after he woke up but now, the most he manages to stay for nearly half an hour of mindless relaxation and he allows himself to revel in the comfort of his bed without the guilt overwhelming him. It's nice.

Eventually, he does get up. He pushes the blankets off him and all at once the chill hits his body, leaving him rather skaken.

Cold temperatures were discovered to be a trigger for him by his doctor. It reminds him of his time at the labs, the years of pain and mindless killing and destruction and how he allowed himself to be so mistreated. He does his best to avoid the cold but winter is on it's way, something he didn't know could happen, and so he has no choice but to confront his feelings about it, according to his doctor. He supposes his doctor is right.

Even though winter is just approaching, he misses summer already.

He is quick to dress into warmer clothes as soon as he gets up. He's covered in so many layers that he's a giant bundle but he's warm all around and he feels safer than he usually would. He shivers lightly before walking delicately to the door of his bedroom. He's allowed to leave but his anxiety still spikes up whenever he does something without permission. He hasn't been able to shake the instinct away.

The kitchen is warm and smokey when he arrives and the smell of bacon is thick and heavy like the warmth surrounding him. It's overwheming but it's such a good feeling that he can't seem to care. Ignis is by the counter cutting vegetables and Noct and Gladio are already sitting among the table. They look up when he walks in.

"Hey," he says quietly and Noctis beams at him.

"Hey yourself," he says. "You hungry? Ignis is working on breakfast."

Prompt nods and sits next to Noct. They bump shoulders and pull their chairs close together and they settle with shoulder pressed against each other. Gladio rolls his eyes but he's smiling and Prompto knows he doesn't mean anything by it, unlike his time here when he was first rescued.

"The love birds are at it again."

Noctis scoffs and moves closer to Prompto. He offers his hand to Prompto and he takes Noct's hand almost nervously, almost because after all these years he has gotten better about physical contact. He used to associate it with pain and punishment.

They hold hands; Noctis' hand is warm and soft, different from Prompto cold hands. Noctis' hand is gentle in his and he can pull away any time if he wants should the feeling of fear arise but Prompto... he wants this. It's comforting, the feeling of Noct's hand. It makes his fear settle down.

He associates this touch with happiness.

* * *

The problem with Prompto is that he's paranoid. 

You can't exactly blame him: he was brainwashed since the day he was born and raised to be a killer, but he urges for a gentler touch. He was built for destruction and yet when he lays a hand on Noctis, it's as soft as a cloud, almost airy and barely there. He longs for more.

The stress of it weighs on him because he wants to be normal like everyone he sees around him. Noctis insists that he doesn't need to rush anything. He's gentle with his words and his touches but it's not enough. He wants to be to initiate such affections in return without the feeling of guilt or fear overcoming him but... Prompto can't do that. Noctis makes sure he know that he's okay with it but Prompto can see the looks he gives him sometimes, the looks of longing and want for his touch. 

All Prompto wishes is to return that feeling to him. That feeling of warmth.

He hadn't known what the feeling was before. He hadn't understood what exactly he longed for so deeply, but he's been taught many things by now. He remembers his tutor and her teachings of reproduction but he hadn't connected the dots until he began watching more films, reading more, and each had had their own portrayal of sex. Of young, of old. There was passionate sex, gentle sex, forced sex. He lapped up each and every portrayal he could get his hand onto.

He remembers the first time he masturbated. Noctis had been gone, off doing his Kingly duties, and Prompto was left alone in their room. He felt restless for some odd reason but when he tried to do something, anything productive, he couldn't focus and his mind would wonder to one particular film. It was the first one he had found that contained a man with another man.

Prompto had laid himself down and reimagined the movie. Both men were attractive in their own right, one slightly taller but both muscular and large than Prompto. They had run hands along each other, from chest to crotch, and Prompto copied the movements. He hand skipped along his less defined chest, along his stomach, and stopped just above his penis.

The men had touched each other there if he recalls correctly. He blushed.

He was panting and his chest was arched slightly. He slipped his hand underneath his pants, his boxers, and grasped hesitantly at his penis. The flesh was harder than he expected and it was dripping from the head. 

His hand stroked down to the base and Prompto gasped, then he did it again. It felt so good. Every time his hand would stroke his flesh, he would gasp, moan, and squirm, and he began bucking up into his hand involuntarily. 

Finally he- ejaculated. That's the word. It lasted for what felt like forever, all the while he bucked and moaned loudly.

Then he fell limp on his bed, sweating and panting and incredibly dirty. Getting up was hard; he felt like jelly and could barely get his legs to cooperate but Prompto laughed giddily and he felt happy he realized with a rush. He felt relaxed and warm.

Then on he knew what he wanted when that certain need overcame him. He spent longer in the showers and was happy to see Noctis go in the mornings, as terrible as that sounded.

And all he wishes is to experience this with Noctis one day. To feel his hands slide down his body, to press his lips against Noct's to see what it felt like, tasted like.  It was often he imagined what it would be like with him there; Noctis would lay him down and stare at him, eyes dark and mischievous  like there were when he was ip to something and he would slowly, carefully slide his shirt up his chest until it reached his chin. Prompto, frozeen on the spot with desire so overwhelming that he could barely thing, would begin to squirm in impatience. He would tug Noct's shirt off too, would think to go slow but would barely be able to wait. Prompto imagines running his hands along his chest feeling the hard flesh.

When they were both naked, they would rub against each other until they both ejaculated, then lay among eah other, panting and tired but feeling calm and complete with each other.

The only thing that stopped him from asking was his aversion to touch. 

He is still frightened of being touched unless he initiates such actions and even then, it wis to be slow and steady and in his range of vision.

Prompto doesn't want to let that stop him though: he longs to touch Noctis with his own hands, to be able to stand the feeling of his touch on his skin like normal people do. 

He isn't normal, though. He never will be. Normal people weren't brainwashed since they were born, weren't taught to kill, weren't trained to be a soldier. He was. He was made for the sole purpose to destroy. 

And destroy he did, once upon a time. He was marched through tiwns and cities and told to kill and he did without an ounce if hesitation because that was his  _job_ , his orders. He didn't know what was right and what was wrong, besides that orders were right and disobeying them were wrong. 

It was hard to unlearn his training, even harder to learn how to be function normally. its taken years for him to get to where he was now; traumatized and barely a person. 

So can you blame him for wanting this? This is his next step to being a human being. 

If he can prove himself normal maybe... maybe Noctis would love him despite his various flaws.

* * *

It's months later when he picks up the urge to try it. He's been masturbating but at some point it stopped being as satisfying and began to feel less fiery and incredible, more dull.

"I wanna try something," Prompto says one day while they get ready for bed. Noctis hums and turns to him.

This is it, this is his chance to try it, to see if it's everything he's dreamt it would be. He puts his hands on Noctis' shoulders and stands in front of him. He takes a deep breathe and-

takes another. Prompto's hands are shaking now, his body is tense but gods he wants to try this. He wants to see if this feels nice like it does for others or if he's really, truly some monster.

"Prom, are you okay?" That concerned tone combined with his worried look and his favorite nickname gives Prompto the strength. He feels a squeeze at his heart and can barely contain himself before he leans forward and plants a kiss on Noctis' lips.

The kiss itself is short and sweet, gentle and jubilating. It sparks a light in Prompto's chest and it warms him from the inside. When he pulls back from the kiss that, to him, felt like forever, a wonderful, beautiful forever, Noctis' eyes are wide open and his mouth gaping. The kiss, while unexpected, was very welcome, Prompto learns when Noctis smiles so wide it was like looking into a bright light and in that moment Prompto felt like a moth.

"Prom...," Noctis sighs, eyes on him and fonder than ever before. He opens his mouth to continue but Prompto dives in for another peck, this time on the cheek. Noctis is blushing now.

"I've been wanting to try that," Prompto mumbles, embarrassed. 

Noctis smiles. "Me too."


End file.
